


Sober

by SuddenlySullen



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlySullen/pseuds/SuddenlySullen
Summary: "Dick finds himself far outside the limits of Gotham knocking on the door of a run-down trailer, shivering in the thin hoodie he's wearing. Slade opens the door in boxers and a white tank top. The patch that usually covers his missing eye is nowhere to be seen, leaving the pit of his eye socket visible. A half-smoked cigarette hangs loose in his mouth."
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 236





	Sober

The rain that beats down is cold, signaling that the end of summer is coming soon. Dick finds himself far outside the limits of Gotham knocking on the door of a run-down trailer, shivering in the thin hoodie he's wearing. Slade opens the door in boxers and a white tank top. The patch that usually covers his missing eye is nowhere to be seen, leaving the pit of his eye socket visible. A half-smoked cigarette hangs loose in his mouth.

"Can I come in?" Dick's teeth chatter. 

Slade jerks his head back. Dick wastes no time slipping into the warmth of the trailer. The door closes quickly behind him. 

"Picked a bad time for a visit, Bluebird," Slade says as his hand is cupping Dick's cheek. His hand is warm and Dick leans into the touch. He pulls the cigarette from his mouth with the other hand before kissing Dick's forehead. "Go get out of those clothes. Look like a drowned rat."

Dick peels the hoodie from his body and retreats down the hall to Slade's bedroom to find a change of clothes. While he's still in his boxers, Slade's hands grip his waist. Dick's stomach does somersaults and he smiles, leaning back into Slade's chest. 

"Thought you said it was a bad time," Dick teases softly. 

"Guess you better be quick then, birdie," Slade murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses down Dick's neck to his shoulder. "You want some help?"

"Please," Dick whines. 

Slade laughs softly. It's a dark sound that sends shivers of anticipation down Dick's spine. "Open up." 

Dick closes his eyes and lets his jaw fall open. Slade presses a pill onto his tongue, then pushes his mouth closed. Dick swallows dry and the taste left in the back of his throat is terrible, but it's quickly chased out by the taste of Slade's mouth on his. Slade tastes dirty. There's something about the stale cigarette smoke and warm beer on his breath that almost makes Dick gag at the same time as he wants to chase more of the taste from Slade's mouth. Dick can feel the warmth of the pill when it hits his stomach. He gasps into Slade's mouth and is met with a smile against his lips. Slade lifts him by the hips and tosses him backwards onto his bed. The blanket is scratchy and it makes all of Dick's nerves spark at once. His vision swims when he tries to focus on Slade's face too hard, so he gives up and lets his eyes fall closed, rubbing his cheek against the sheets. One of Slade's hands palms his cock through his boxers and makes him cry out, a high pitched keening noise. He rolls his hips up into Slade's hand, quickly chasing orgasm. Slade's grip tightens and he starts to jerk Dick's cock. The barrier of the fabric makes Dick miss the feeling of Slade's calloused hands on his skin. Warm electric tingling spreads through his body and he can't control the way his hands are touching everything they can possibly reach. He whimpers at the onslaught of sensation just as he realizes that he's coming in his boxers. Dick vaguely registers hearing a knock on the door.

"There you go, sweetheart," Slade says low in his ear. "Just ride it out til Daddy's done taking care of business." 

A long noise of protest rises from Dick's throat as Slade walks out and closes the door behind him. Dick rolls over and humps desperately against the mattress. He's not sure if he's come once or ten times. His whole body feels like it's trapped in one long orgasm. When the door opens again, there are voices that Dick doesn't recognize. He lays mostly still, panting into the pillow, and realizes that he's drenched in sweat. 

"What's this," says one of the voices Dick doesn't recognize. 

"A local," comes Slade's reply. 

A hand that's too soft and gentle to he Slade's pushes his bangs up and Dick turns away. His vision swims, but he sees Slade's arm slapping the man's hand away. 

"Touch him again and you'll leave here with a stump." Slade's voice is calm, but his tone is firm. It sends a fresh wave of warmth through Dick. Slade pulls several stacks of money from the closet and hands them over to one of the men. He nods and a bag is dropped on top of Dick's feet. Slade pulls several bricks of pills out of it before grabbing the knife off his nightstand and cutting into one. "If any of these aren't legit, I'll be paying you all a nice little visit," Slade growls. "Now fuck off. I've got something to deal with here." 

Things shuffle around the room. The front door opens and shuts. Slade's strong arms pull Dick into an upright position. Dick tries to curl in close to Slade. He wants to sate the burning need inside of him to put his mouth over every inch of Slade's exposed skin. Slade pushes him off gently, then presses a glass of orange juice to his lips. 

"Drink it all," Slade commands. 

Dick obeys easily. His eyes struggle to stay trained on Slade's face. He can feel the juice work its way down his throat as he counts the wrinkles and thinks about dragging his lips over all of them. For as tightly coiled as his insides feel, his limbs move easily wherever Slade wants them to go. Once the glass is empty, Slade finally allows Dick to crawl into his lap. 

"What do you need, baby?" Slade speaks into his skin where his neck and shoulder meet. 

Dick's fingers find their way to Slade's hair, dragging his nails gently down his scalp. Slade tilts his head back, giving enough access for Dick to distract himself with biting and sucking at the skin of his neck. 

"Easy," Slade hisses after an especially rough bite. His fingers dig into Dick's hips. "Talk to me, bluebird. Tell me what you need." 

"You," Dick whines. "I want my mouth all over you. You feel so good in my mouth." 

"Watch those teeth," Slade warns. 

Dick nods frantically, kissing and licking up the side of Slade's neck. He continues up Slade's cheek to his temple without pausing, then lets his mouth glide over the dip of Slade's empty eye socket. When he mouths at the rim of it, he can feel the warning flex of Slade's fingers on his hips, but Slade doesn't tell him to stop. His tongue swipes over the scarred skin and the feeling of the different textured skin makes him let out a soft moan. Slade's breaths are ragged in his ear. He allows Dick a few more open mouthed kisses around his eye socket before turning his head away. Dick whines at the loss, but the sound is swallowed by Slade kissing him deeper than he ever has before. The taste of cigarettes is strong in his mouth and Dick chases more of it. He barely notices his hips rocking against Slade until he feels himself shuddering. His moans and high and needy as Slade kisses him through another orgasm. 

"I love you," Dick breathes when his body finally goes limp in Slade's lap. 

Slade doesn't answer right away. He moves Dick off his lap, peeling away the damp boxers. "Tell me when you aren't high," he mumbles. 

When Slade stands to pull his own shirt off, Dick is pretty sure he can feel his pupils dilating. His eyes rake over the firm planes of Slade's stomach with just enough skin loosened by age to give him a touch of softness. He lets Dick rub his palms over the skin of his stomach while he tugs off his own boxers. His cock stands half-hard, glistening slightly at the tip. Dick rolls his tongue in his mouth, looking up at Slade with wide eyes. 

"Go on," Slade tells him. 

Dick sits at the edge of the bed, legs spread for Slade to stand between them. His mouth on Slade's cock is uncoordinated and sloppy. He swallows down as much of it as he can, then uses his tongue to feel the texture of it. Slade's hand pets through his hair and Dick moans around him. He keeps rolling his tongue around Slade's cock until it has fully hardened in his mouth and Slade pulls him away by the hair. He guides Dick to move back onto the bed and lay down, leaving open mouthed kisses down his neck and chest the whole way. Rough hands pet down his stomach to his thighs. Slade grips them tight to spread Dick open for him. Dick blushes, but can't help that he bucks his hips into the rough touch. 

Dick whines when Slade's hands leave him to get the lube. He forces his eyes to focus long enough to watch Slade stroke down his own cock a few times. The press of his cock into Dick is agonizingly slow. Dick's whole body trembles until Slade grips his hips tight. The pain blooms into something that feels even better than Slade's slow fucking into him. Dick's hands twist into Slade's hair rougher than he means to, drawing a slight hiss from his lips. Slade leans forward to kiss Dick and bites firmly into his bottom lip. After he releases it, Slade licks and kisses over the light marks left by his teeth. Dick mewls, running his fingers over Slade's scalp to keep from pulling too hard again. Slade increases the pace of his thrusts, causing Dick to arch his back almost completely off the bed. 

"Fuck, birdie, seeing you bend in half never gets old," Slade pants so close that Dick can feel his breath. 

"Please," is all Dick manages to whimper between high moans. 

Slade hushes him. "Daddy's got you." 

The snap of Slade's hips into Dick is painful in the very best way. He feels like he's being split in half. When Slade's teeth sink into his collarbone, he feels himself come completely undone. Sparks light his whole body. His cock jerks and splatters come across his chest. Slade buries himself to the hilt inside of him and Dick can feel the slow pulse of Slade filling him up. 

"So good, birdie," Slade pants when his mouth leaves Dick's neck. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Dick babbles, still shaking and trying to come down. 

Slade pulls out slow, but Dick still whines at the loss of his heavy weight on top of his chest. He gets up and walks down the hall, only to return with the whole carton of orange juice and a wet washcloth. 

"Sit up a minute," Slade says and helps him upright. "Now drink." 

Dick takes the carton and starts gulping juice down. Slade wipes down his chest with the cloth and Dick shudders, still sensitive from the drugs and the sex. 

"I should go," he says when he has to stop drinking to breathe. 

"Stay," Slade tells him. It's not a question, but Dick knows he could leave if he really wanted to. "Clothes are still wet. It's raining. It's dark out. You're still floating a little. Just stay, Bluebird."

Dick knows he should leave, but can't quite summon a reason why, so he stays. He spends the night pressed against Slade's side, mouthing at his skin. When he wakes, the sun is blinding. His eyes burn and his body feels like it was run over by a train then sent through a woodchipper for good measure. He groans, pinching his eyes shut. 

"Morning, birdie," Slade's voice is soft. He nuzzles at Dick's hair. "How you feeling?" 

"I wanna die," Dick says into Slade's shoulder. 

Slade huffs a slight laugh. "Welcome to suicide Sunday." 

Dick wants to protest when Slade peels him away and gets out of the bed, but his stomach starts to riot when he opens it to talk so he quickly snaps it shut in case he does end up puking. He sits up, still keeping his eyes shut against the light of the sun and cursing Slade's lack of proper curtains.

"Here," Slade presses a glass into one of his hands and four pills into the other. "Water, Tryptophan, and Tylenol. It should help a bit." 

"Thanks," Dick says before taking the pills and chugging the water. "Now lay down with me while I die?"

"Sure thing, bluebird," Slade says, smiling just a little. Dick doesn't open his eyes, but he can hear it in Slade's voice. 

They curl up in bed together, letting their hands move over each other's skin between short naps. Dick's head stops pounding after a while and his body feels a little less woodchippered, but he hesitates when he opens his eyes. 

"I should go home," Dick sighs. 

"Probably," Slade agrees. 

Neither of them move for several more minutes. The sound of Dick's phone ringing on the nightstand is what finally forces him to roll slightly away from Slade. He grimaces at the text from Bruce. 

"Daddy issues?" Slade asks. 

Dick nudges him with his elbow. "No, daddy is right here. Bruce issues. I should get back before he sends out a search party though."

Slade nods as Dick is peeling himself away. He drags his feet through getting his dry, but musty smelling clothes on. 

"Take one of my sweatshirts," Slade says from where he's still laying in bed. "Yours won't be dry."

Dick smiles. "Thanks, daddy." 

"Make sure you tell Bruce where it came from too," he says as he's lighting up a cigarette. 

Before he leaves, Dick kisses Slade's cheek. He lets his lips linger just a few seconds too long before pulling away. On his way out the front door, he turns and calls down the trailer: "I still love you sober." 

  
  
  



End file.
